


Mantle of the Healer

by embersofamber



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders is adorable, Cuddles, Don't tell Sebastian, Erotica, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hawke thinks so too, Livejournal kink meme prompt, Naughty Chant of Light, Romance, Storms, Templars would be offended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 11:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11622480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embersofamber/pseuds/embersofamber
Summary: Hawke always hated storms.





	Mantle of the Healer

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fill for the Livejournal Dragon Age Kink Meme, written in 2011. The writing prompt is at the end.

* * *

 

 

It was dark in her Hightown bedroom, despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon. A single candle flickered, illuminating the letter she was squinting to read.

It was a rather indelicate advertisement she had received for a popular potion to increase male staying power, which was absolutely useless considering that was the last thing Anders needed, but it was something trivial to distract herself with, nonetheless. The glowing accounts from supposedly happy customers were the most amusing part. She shifted in the chair in front of her desk, hunting for a more comfortable position.

It was a positively hideous day, the atmosphere oppressive and thick. Black, roiling storm clouds boiled and swirled above the Hightown skyline, threatening to unleash their fury of wet wrath on the hapless people below. Lightning crackled, soon followed by the harsh trembling of thunder.

Hawke startled, looking up from the papers on her desk to glance out the window at nature's display, with eyes wide with shock. From her earliest days she had never cared for big storms, always hiding under her covers with Bethany or her ratty stuffed toy, whichever was closer at hand, but this one blowing in from the sea truly promised to be powerful. Kirkwall's coastal storms were like nothing she had ever experienced growing up in Ferelden, their violence and devastation unsurpassed. No matter how many years she lived in Kirkwall, she would never get used to them.

She shivered, dropping the forgotten advert and wrapping her arms around herself, not from cold, but fear. It was quite ridiculous, she was the Champion of Kirkwall, wasn't she? Hadn't she killed the hulking Arishok in single combat with her silver daggers, defying all odds with as small as she was compared to him? Surely she could master her fear of storms. The lifelong and irrational terror of storms. Her nervous laughter sounded loud against her own ears.

The panes of glass in the window rattled loudly, drawing her eye again, the wind lifting and tossing the swaying branches of the trees bordering the estate with angry force. More lightning forked outside the window causing every hair on her body to stand on end, and the house shook ominously.

Letting out a strangled squeak and with the partially formed thought of fleeing already in mind, she ran to the closet, slamming the door behind her and cowering against the stone wall like a scared mouse. Hawke's false bravado deserted her; all the martial skills in the world were quite useless against the elements. She slid down the wall and hugged her knees against her chest in a tight little ball.

Groping blindly above her, she brushed against soft suede and silky feathers and sighed in relief. Tugging sharply, she liberated Anders spare coat from where it hung, the thick garment pooling heavily in her lap.

His familiar scent wafted through the small space, calming the galloping racing of her heart and allowing her to draw a trembling breath. Grunting with effort, she twisted and squirmed until she was able to insinuate herself into her lover's clothing, wrapping the empty arms of the coat around her, imagining it was his arms that held her tight.

It's a funny thing, she thought, what the mind chooses to latch onto in the absence of the one you love. A particular look or smile. Something humorous or maybe something arousing. You never really know what it might be until your beloved is absent, and you desperately want them.

For Hawke, it had always been Anders' scent. That rosemary and sage blend, combined with a hint of musky sandalwood and the warmth of healing magic. It was a complex smell- much like the man himself.

The high, sharp sound of shattering glass made her gasp and sink lower in her hiding place. She buried her nose against one of the sleeves of his coat, her own breath coming back hot against her face. With trembling voice, she tried reciting verses of the Chant for comfort, speaking quietly against feathered pauldrons.

"Those who oppose thee  
Shall know the wrath of heaven.  
Field and forest shall burn,  
The seas shall rise and devour them,  
The wind shall tear their nations  
From the face of the earth,  
Lightning shall rain down from the sky,  
They shall cry out to their false gods,  
And find silence."

She frowned, not feeling terribly reassured by the words which sounded more like a foul threat than anything else. She decided to give up on her half-hearted attempt at seriousness and improvise with juvenile humor as she was sometimes wont to do in her drunker moments, despite being without a drop of whiskey to wet her mouth now.

"Blessed Andraste laid upon her back.

The Maker looked down and observed the tasty snack.

With a tongue so divine he probed and devoured,

Then came across Thedas in a god-like golden shower."

She chewed the inside of her cheek, considering. "Perhaps Andraste should have a glorious rack instead?"

Hawke snickered to herself irreverently, having never been overtly religious. When Sebastian began to annoy her with his constant harping on the Maker, she had started thinking up her own version of the Chant, finding it a rather pleasing source of entertainment.

The door opened and she closed her eyes tightly against the sudden flood of light into her hiding place. She cracked a cautious eye to see Anders looking at her wrapped up in his extra coat with a curious mix of tenderness and amusement.

Flashes of brilliant white light filled the room behind him, momentarily casting his features into shadow. She winced with the loud growl of thunder that immediately followed. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and plunging them back into darkness.

"Anders?" she asked hesitantly.

"I thought I'd join you." His amused voice floated above her, but his tone was soothing, something he seemed to do instinctively as a healer.

Scuffling and scraping sounds echoed in the closet, then Hawke found herself pulled from the wall and settled between Anders' bent legs, her head pressed to his broad chest where his heart beat a steady rhythm. With a contented sigh, she burrowed against him, seeking the comfort and warmth of his embrace.

A spell wisp winked into place over their heads, bathing them in a gentle green glow.

"Were you making up naughty verses of the Chant of Light again?" he murmured against her ear. His lips barely brushed her skin, warm breath flowing across her neck. She turned slightly in his arms and leaned back to meet his eyes.

"You know how much I dislike storms. I was trying to distract myself."

He raised his head for a moment to listen to the rain pounding against the roof of the mansion. "This is a bad one too. It's why I thought I better come and check on you."

Whistling wind blew under the crack in the door and the building vibrated. Hawke shivered involuntarily, Anders' hand coming up to stroke her arm in soothing circles, his touch firm but gentle. He lifted the sleeve of the coat she was still wrapped in and raised a questioning brow, a slight smile lifting his lips.

"And just what were you doing wearing my coat this time? You aren't naked like you were on the previous occasion, so I assume it's not for my benefit."

She laughed quietly, remembering the time she had decided to greet Anders return home wearing nothing but his extra mage robe.

Heat spread across her cheeks at this bout of girly sentimentality and foolishness, wondering what he would think of her. "I just wanted your arms around me," she whispered, "and this was as close as I could get."

Anders peeled his coat off her, tossing it aside, then pulled her tight against him, lowering his head to brush his mouth against her lips and causing her stomach to do a little flip. His warm brown eyes roved over her face with a gleam of satisfaction and he smiled teasingly.

"Maybe it's the possessive man in me, love, but I very much enjoy coming home to see you wearing my clothes. It also does this to me, as I'm sure you are well aware." He dragged her hand down to where his erect cock was straining at his breeches, laughing when she bit her lip in an eager look he recognized.

He pushed up her short robe over her thighs, fingers gliding between her legs along the edge of the lacy scrap of smalls she wore. Her breath hitched, her eyes half-lidded in anticipation as he brushed against her, calling forth her body's wet response as only he could. Insinuating a finger under the fabric, he teased against the silken folds, whispering against her ear.

"Guide me through the blackest nights

Make me to rest in the _warmest_ places."

Anders tilted his head back, smirking at her smile of understanding as he twisted the Chant to suit his meaning. She closed her eyes, trying to piece the verses and canticles in her memory into something suitably alluring.

"With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.

It is the whisper in the night

An unquenchable flame  
All-consuming, and never satisfied."

She shuddered as his fingers penetrated her slowly, moving languidly in and out, brushing expertly over the spot of greatest pleasure that made her tremble against him. He tugged her earlobe with his teeth, his voice deepening when he spoke again. "Touch me with fire that I be cleansed. Find me well within Your grace."

Hawke met his eyes, dark and lustful, and they came to a silent consensus. Hurriedly, they grappled with clothing, opening and tugging down his trousers and shoving off her smalls so she could straddle him, enveloping his pulsing cock in the sodden depths of her aching sheathe.

She moaned against his neck. "For You are the fire at the heart of the world." Hawke punctuated her words with a lingering kiss below his ear. "And comfort is only Yours to give."

He thrust up into her, hilting himself more fully in her slick core, hands brushing aside her robe to seek her bare breasts and tease at her nipples. Hawke set the pace, starting slowly, torturing him with rolls of her hips and gripping him tightly with her inner muscles, making him gasp and whisper profanity, then building in speed and intensity. He licked one of his thumbs, using it to draw wet circles on her areola, making her moan.

Anders met her pleasure-dazed eyes, calling up the slightest electric sparks to the hand he rubbed against her clit. Hawke's fingernails dug into his shoulders as their coupling turned more passionate and untamed, mimicking the savage nature of the raging storm. He increased the strength of his magic as he spoke the final words against her breast while he lapped at her, staving off his orgasm through will alone.

"Come to me, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity."

The walls of the closet rattled with a loud rumble of thunder, punctuating the intensity of their lovemaking. He sucked and bit down on her nipple, finally pushing her over the edge.

Hawke wailed her release, inner muscles gripping around him. Swept into her powerful climax, Anders spilled himself with a final deep thrust and a pleasured groan of satisfaction.

Their ragged breaths gradually calmed; the noise of the storm also tapering off slightly and Anders scooted down until they were lying flat. Hawke tilted her head resting heavily on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled jaw. Shifting, she clenched around his softening cock, drawing a shuddery sigh from his lips.

She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth, head tilted thoughtfully. "I believe that's the most amazing religious experience I've ever had. Think we should confide our newfound fervor to Sebastian?"

Anders chuckled, running his hands along her bare legs and coming to rest them on the swell of her backside. "Only if you tell him about the _Maker coming across Thedas in golden showers_. I'll admit, that's a new favorite for me."

Hawke pushed herself upright, looking down into his laughing eyes. "Mhhh, I don't suppose he would really appreciate the humor in that."

Anders snagged his spare coat, bunching it behind him like a pillow and laying back, arranging her into a more comfortable sprawl across his chest. The storm continued to rage outside, but Hawke found her fear had evaporated during their time in the closet.

He lifted her chin, smiling into her eyes. "In case I didn't make it clear enough before, you are always welcome to wear my clothes, sweetheart."

Hawke smirked, pressing a kiss to his feather covered shoulder. "Thanks love, but I infinitely prefer the man in them."

Anders smiled as his heart swelled with love for the woman in his arms. He closed his eyes, enjoying the rare feeling of complete peace.

He rather liked storms.

* * *

 

 

_**W** _ _**riting Prompt:** _

_**When Anders isn't around and Hawke feels lonely, she grabs one of his spare coats from their wardrobe and snuggles it.** _


End file.
